My Only Son
by MadMar
Summary: Lucius Malfoy is alone, a prisoner in Azkaban and in himself. Haunted by visions of his son's death each night, Lucius worries his mind is deteriorating. But he has no idea how deathly accurate these nightmares are.


"Not my son… my only son…."

The man lay on the stone floor of his Azkaban cell, moaning and crying, clutching at his ripped robes. He writhed in agony, not awaking from his nightmare. The guards paid him no mind; the man, Lucius Malfoy, seemed to do this a lot lately. Each night, when he would pass out from exhaustion, he would cry out in his sleep and wriggle fitfully, not waking for hours.

When he would awake, he would gasp for air, his grey eyes livid and wide. Sometimes, he would continue to lie on the ground, sobbing. Other times, he would draw his legs to his body and take the fetal position. Mostly, he would cradle his arms like he was holding a child and he would babble to the air. He had been a prisoner in Azkaban for nine years now. However, he had been a prisoner in his mind for much longer.

The room was dark. Lucius didn't know where he was. But he had been here before, he could sense it. The robes Lucius wore were familiar; his black, Death Eater robes and the weight of a mask pressed against his face. He looked around in the deep darkness, letting his eyes adjust to it. He could see a cloaked figure walking toward him.

_"You have failed me, Malfoy."_

The cold, high-pitched voice filled Lucius' ears. He sank to his knees before his master, the Dark Lord, bowing his head. The floor was cold and hard beneath his knees. Preparing to repent, Lucius began to speak.

"I understand, my Lord. I apologize, master." But the Dark Lord paid him no mind. It was as if Lucius ceased to exist, or never had to begin with. Lucius raised his head and his gaze followed his master. The Dark Lord had illuminated the tip of his wand, holding it aloft, and advanced past Lucius' knelt body. Lucius stood and turned to see where his master was going, to whom he was speaking to.

A few feet away, a helpless boy, a scared and trembling boy knelt on the ground. The boy's blonde hair gleamed in the scarce wand light. Tears were seeping from beneath his eyelids and flowing down his pale cheeks. Lucius recognized him and his heart twisted in pain. It was his son. His only son. Draco.

"I-I understand, m-my Lord, I apologize, my Lord…" Draco's voice faltered. "I am sorry."

"Indeed, you are sorry," the Dark Lord said softly, his voice momentarily calm and understanding. Lucius felt a sudden dread fill him. "But the Dark Lord does not forgive easily." 

Draco's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his pale throat. He bit his lip and Lucius willed himself to move. His feet, however, seemed firmly cemented to the floor.

"You have failed, Draco. I do not accept failure." The Dark Lord had advanced closer to Draco and was standing only inches from him. Lucius' skin crawled.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Then you will understand what I am about to do." Lucius raced, thinking only to knock the Dark Lord down, to stop him. But as he ran, Lucius' legs became leaden; Draco and the Dark Lord were beyond his reach.

"Avada Kedavra!" A jet of green light blasted from the Dark Lord's wand and Draco, already knelt, fell on his side, the sound of his body falling echoing throughout the room. The Dark Lord chuckled, his red eyes gleaming as he looked into Draco's deadened grey ones. 

Lucius lunged at the Dark Lord, ready to kill him, ready to wring his neck. But the Dark Lord had disappeared, gone. It was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. Lucius was too late. He had not been quick enough to save his son; he had not been quick enough to get revenge. He fell beside his son's body in anguish. 

Draco lay there on the ground, cold and dead. Lucius groped for his son's body and felt it beneath his fingers. Pulling Draco into his lap, Lucius cried. He held him like he would a small child and cradled him, rocking back and forth, moaning.

"I was proud of you, Draco. I loved you. I love you."

Lucius had not often said these things during Draco's life. Now, it was too late. Pent up thoughts tumbled out of his mouth as he clutched his son's corpse to him.

"I wanted to see you marry and carry on our family line. I wanted to protect you from this hell. Your mother didn't ever approve of my Death Eater talk at home. She always said it would get you into trouble someday. But not like this… I never thought it would be like this…."

Lucius wondered what the future may have brought for Draco. Would he have married and raised a family? Or would he have followed in his father's footsteps anyway? Now Lucius would never know.

"I didn't want to lose you. My son… my only son…"

He hugged his son to him and the room went completely black.

Lucius awoke with a start. He was hugging air. Insubstantial air. Draco was nowhere to be seen, nor was the Dark Lord. Lucius was alone in an Azkaban cell, a ruined man. But he didn't know how alone he truly was. Seven years before, Draco Malfoy had been found dead in an abandoned shack in the town of Little Hangleton. His mother, Narcissa, killed herself hours later, unable to bear the grief. Lucius Malfoy was alone in the world.

It was kinder to keep him locked up in Azkaban, a prisoner in himself, but a free man from the truth.


End file.
